North American Dialect Map

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Hat tip: Marginal Revolution

Goodbye, Thick Skin

I've lost my resolve and decided it's prudent to buy a jacket.

It's winter here and at night the temperature drops down to around 50 F. In the morning, when I bike to work, it's still only about 60 F. That's pleasant compared to the Minnesota winter I came from, but slowly I've acclimated and sixty degrees now feels like twenty to me.

I can't wait for summer; everyone tells me it's hot and miserable.

Dick In A Box

 The original dick in a box:

Pretty sure the Chinese  translate to: "Not gonna get  you a diamond ring; that sorta gift don't mean anything."

Gingerbread Houses

Today the kids made gingerbread houses. Wilson being the exception. He just couldn't resist the delicious, delicious sugar. He spent the hour asking for more frosting to glue his house together and then licking it off his fingers. haha...

Wilson usually cracks me up - this was the icing on the cake gingerbread house.

 Notice the other kids in the background patiently holding their houses together and waiting for the frosting to dry.




As if this weren't enough, another student was singing, "He knows when you're awake. He knows when Wilson has eats his house!"

Christmas Mashup

Christmas classics all mashed up:

http://www.bootiemashup.com/xmas/

I like track 8 on the green side.

Things That Make Benson Cry

One kindergarten student starts crying all the time.

Most kids' crying is pretty standard - time outs, a super awesome block castle getting knocked over, etc. Also, the stages are really pronounced and predictable. First, there's the incident. Next, the eyes well up and a frown develops. From there, I can start a countdown until tears and screaming of a variable magnitude.

But Benson is different. One second he's fine and the next he's crying his eyes out. The progression of tear up to full on crying is practically instantaneous. Also, his triggers are numerous and unpredictable. After a while, it became kind of entertaining, and I had to start documenting. I don't think that's cruel.*

Here is the ever-expanding list of things that make Benson cry. 

Some make sense:

•  Time outs - given; time outs will break many a three year old's spirit.
• A cockroach - I don't like them much, either.
• Stepping in spilled water - crying is better than swearing or punching other kids, I guess.

Others not so much: 

• A plastic toy lobster - it's red?
• The tiny geckos that run around everywhere - glass jar, anyone?
• His Christmas costume - sure, it wasn't a matador costume, but Uncle Sam is still awesome!
• A leaf that blew into the classroom - the other students didn't think it looked threatening.

Lastly, some things leave me scratching my head:

• When kindergartners have to use they bathroom they ask in a few different ways. Some will simply tap me and say, "May I go to the bathroom?" Others are more crude and just grab their junk and pantomime "peeing all over everything." Others still, just leave the classroom and go. I'm fine with all of those. Guess which method Benson prefers? None of the above - he just starts crying. 

• Last week, a puppy wandered into the schoolyard. It was black, about the size of a shoe and frolicking all around with big 'ol puppy dog eyes. It was adorable. All the kids ran toward the dog, and I was worried it would get trampled. Basically, the epitome of childhood curiosity. Everyone was ecstatic about the little puppy. ... Except Benson. Benson started crying. 

Addendum:
*I cried when I started kindergarten. It sucked - I missed my mom, couldn't cut my own hair, and playtime wasn't all the time. My teacher let me use the computer for a little while every day. (Ms. Grace, thank you for being so patient and understanding while I adjusted to my new environment.) And adjust I did: a few days later, I stopped crying and proceeded to be hardened by public school. ;)

Anyhow, I really can't empathize with Benson's situation. I tried the first couple times, but come on, an adorable puppy...

Documenting will continue. This may turn into a series if it continues to be fresh.

Airport Near my House

Taiwan is becoming more open to general aviation. Prior to arriving, I read about the flying situation on the internet and it looked bleak. Now, I regret leaving my license and logbooks at home.
I found out that there's a small airport in Dapeng Bay, basically my backyard.

It's a one runway (18/36) airfield. The FBO has a fleet of three ultralight aircraft. One really piqued my interest: an Aeroprakt A-22. Its design is similar to the first airplane I ever flew, the Remos G3 light sport. I need to get in that airplane. 

Hopefully, I'll be in the skies soon flying around Dapeng Bay. I plan to offer English lessons and my token whiteness* in exchange for flight time. 

*The Taiwanese like white people and I enjoy very high status here. Having a token white person around gives places face. I'll explain the concept of face in more detail later as I'm still learning the dynamics.

Bah! Humbug!

I'm less at odds with myself now. A voice inside my head kept saying, "Dude, it's Christmas. You should be feeling homesick, and stuff, wishing to celebrate Christmas in The States. This is only your second away from the family."

After the Kenting trip, my friend and I made rough plans to meet up, cook dinner, and watch Christmas classics. I wanted to appease the do-Christmas-stuff voice inside my head. But Christmas has come quickly and it's less than a week away. Now, I'm kinda cringing at the idea of spending money to hastily celebrate. Orchestrating everything isn't my strong suite -that's what other people, like grandmas, are for.

Anyhow, it just feels like a boon. So why force it? I don't really feel like doing anything Christmasy for Christmas and that's fine.

I thought I had to. I don't. I thought I would feel a void if I wasn't doing something(symbolic) to celebrate the holiday. I won't.

Glad I've finally self-actualized and convinced myself it's cool to do what makes me happy. 

My Christmas will be best spent paragliding in a Santa costume I'll borrow from my school. 

Making choices independent of obligation kicks ass! 

Engrish Christmas

My school had a Christmas performance. The students had been practicing music and dances throughout December. Last Friday was the big day. All of the parents came to the school to watch their kids perform.

Altogether, I thought Asian Christmas was hilarious.

Mostly, the costumes. No expense was spared and everyone had a costume. By costume, I don't mean ugly sweaters. There were Indians, pink tutus, a few different dashiki and kufi combinations, Uncle Sam penguin suits, and my favorite, the matador costume.

Of course, myself and the other foreign teachers were dressed as Santa Clause. We had to break character a few times because the costume was confusing and even scary for some of the kids. About halfway through the whole thing we changed out of the Santa costumes and into our Pope costumes. I was giddy the entire time, completely enjoying the well-intended sacrilege.

Anyhow, the rest is textbook. Little kids performing dances and music is really cute and funny. Adding costumes, a few crying kids, and Engrish to the mix made everything even cuter and funnier.

I forgot my camera, and now I'm really kicking myself. I'll try to get some photos from the school or parents. Hopefully I'll get them while it's still relevant.

Pigeon Races

Here, pigeons that have plastic bands around their ankles are for racing.

Thankfully, someone pointed this out to me. Unassisted, I would have assumed either escaped domesticate or part of an ecology observation and shrugged it off. Nope, it's for racing. The band has the owner's contact information and usually a prize for calling in a found bird.

I'm told the races have large prizes. Thus, breeding, raising, and owning successful racing pigeons can be very lucrative. Naturally, a successful racing pigeon is valuable. How valuable? Valuable enough to create a secondary market.

The slightly-less-than-scrupulous capitalize on pigeon-napping. These pigeon-nappers will strategically set up giant nets to trap racing birds. Then, they'll call the owners and demand a ransom for its return. Devious... I'm slightly amused by the whole thing.

Bird racers are not. Obviously, it throws a wrench in the bird racing schematic. It's such a problem that the government has outlawed it, and cities hire scouts to find the bird-nappers. My paragliding coach tells me he's sometimes hired by a city to do aerial scouting before a big race.

I wonder how, "Give me 10,000 unmarked bills if you ever want to see your prized pigeon again." sounds in Mandarin...